


b[O]uquet

by AMX004_Qubeley



Category: NieR: Automata (Video Game)
Genre: 6O is an adorably cute dom, Consensual Mind Control, F/F, Hypnosis, If you don't believe that 2B is a sub remember that the "B" stands for "Bottom", Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-10-03 09:35:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17281568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AMX004_Qubeley/pseuds/AMX004_Qubeley
Summary: 2B just doesn't feel like herself unless she's being told what to do. Fortunately for her, 6O is surprisingly good at telling her what to do.





	b[O]uquet

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [wordbending](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordbending) and a bunch of Nier fanfic-writing friends (you know who you are) for lots and lots of helpful feedback, I couldn't have done this without you

6O wormed her fingers into 2B’s hair, gently tugging on her scalp as she curled her snow-white locks around her fingers. The texture of her gloved fingertips already drew a warm blush to 2B’s cheeks, even though tonight’s session had yet to begin. “Ready?” she asked.

2B nodded, swallowing a lump in her throat. Relinquishing control of herself was always a daunting proposal—a leap of faith—even though she trusted 6O and knew exactly what dreamlike bliss awaited her.

“The safe word is ‘thistle.’ If any of the orders I give you make you uncomfortable, you have my permission to say it at any time.”

“Got it.” 2B sat on 6O’s bed next to her and leaned back into her lap, nestling her head against her chest.

6O pulled up a holographic panel and ran her fingers against it, scrolling through a forest of code that 2B knew was her own BIOS, but looked as unfamiliar to her as the inner workings of her chassis would. A second panel popped up with an installation widget and a clear list of instructions—6O was no Scanner, after all, and always needed help getting kernel-level access and root permissions. Fortunately, the mischievous Scanners who had designed this software documented it well—for a price. 2B wondered how much of 6O’s monthly stipend had gone toward the instruction manual.

6O patted 2B on the back. “Almost there, my little dahlia.”

2B smiled inwardly at the epithet. ‘Little’ was not one she’d ever expected from 6O, especially considering that 2B was noticeably taller than her. Last week, she’d been 6O’s ‘precious acacia,’ mostly—by the end of each session, 6O would often use so many different pet names for her that 2B would leave her quarters feeling like a bouquet.

After a few quiet minutes of 6O tapping her fingers on the holographic displays, 2B felt something ice-cold and wet trickle through the back of her mind, as if someone had filled her skull with half-melted ice cubes. A brisk and refreshing twinge ran through her muscles—if the insides of her body had taste sensors, she would have said it tasted ‘minty.’

2B blinked as her eyes unfocused and then refocused, the world around her—6O’s quarters, which, admittedly, did not lend itself to much of an impressive view—blurring and pixelating before sharpening back into focus.

She wanted to take a deep breath to quell her nerves—but could do nothing more than her rhythmic, steady, involuntary breathing.

Right.

If she wanted to do that, she would have to ask her Operator for permission. And she couldn’t ask for permission until 6O gave _that_ permission to her.

6O dismissed the holographic screens and rubbed 2B’s shoulders.“All good on your end?” she chirped.

“Yes, mistress,” 2B said, relieved to have been given a question to respond to. She still couldn’t help but feel nervous, even though she and 6O had done this a dozen times before and she knew that she liked it. She knew that apprehension would fade once she’d gotten into the swing of things.

“I’d like permission to take a deep breath, please,” she said. The formality came naturally to her, although she probably wouldn’t have used _please_ in an unaltered mental state.

“Permission granted. And remember, if I _ever_ push you too hard or ask you to do something you’re not comfy doing, you can still use our safe word whenever you want.”

2B breathed deeply, the filtered oxygen of the Bunker’s atmosphere cooling her chassis, and exhaled with a long, soft sigh. The tension fled from her, removing the swirling cloud of trepidation from her mind. Her body felt light, airy, and warm; a gentle tingling sensation tickled at the back of her mind.

“Let’s start you off,” 6O said, “with some simple orders. Respond to my questions with basic, yes-or-no answers, okay, my little mint leaf?”

Under the influence of the software injected under her operating system, 2B’s body was helpless and her mind was putty in 6O’s soft, warm hands. “Yes,” she answered.

6O went back to stroking 2B’s hair, her fingers brushing against the tips of her ears. “Do you feel good right now?”

“Yes.” Following these orders _did_ make 2B feel good. They were simple and painless, leaving her with no conflict in her head. The commands 6O issued never put her or anyone else in danger. 6O never forced her to deaden herself to the world. 6O never forced her to murder.

It was still a bit of a shock to see 6O, the perennial shrinking violet, take such an authoritative role, even if it only extended as far as the threshold of her bedroom. But, 2B supposed, even Operators were always full of surprises.

“Can you do anything by yourself right now?” 6O asked.

If 2B had the power to say anything other than ‘yes’ or ‘no,’ she would have helpfully explained that she could still blink, breathe, and perform other involuntary actions without being given any orders. Instead, she simply said, “No.”

“Are you excited?” 6O asked.

“Yes.” It was always a bit slow at the beginning, but 2B truly loved just how _free_ she always felt by the end of it.

6O giggled. “So, 2B, is there anyone here on the Bunker you, um… _like?”_

“Yes.”

“What’s her name?”

2B felt as though a wet, heavy blanket had just been draped over her mind. Her breath froze. That wasn’t a question she could answer ‘yes’ or ‘no’ to! She shuddered, wishing she could curl up to avoid this inescapable, impossible demand, but such unilateral action eluded her. Her limbs hung limp and leaden without direction from 6O to move them; she struggled to even so much as squirm with discomfort.

Her safe word sat on the tip of her tongue, but 2B forced it back down. 6O always threw a curveball like this in the first few minutes. It was a part of the routine—2B shouldn’t have let it catch her off guard. She knew that 6O would only keep her hanging like this for a little while until she said…

“Aww, my little marigold…” 6O patted 2B on the cheek. “Don’t answer that question,” she ordered her, sending a wave of relief through her body. The pure, emptyheaded bliss running once again through 2B’s mind reminded her why she never used the safe word _this_ early in the sessions. “You can now respond to my questions with your full vocabulary.”

“Thank you.” 2B shivered again, still reeling. “Mistress, I’d like permission to…”

 _To cuddle you. To snuggle you._ That’s how 2B _wanted_ to finish that sentence, but she couldn’t bring herself to say it. That was why she did these sessions with 6O, after all—to free herself from her inhibitions and repressions: because following orders was all she knew, and the only way she could do what she wanted, what she _truly_ wanted, was for someone _else_ to command her to do so.

“To what? 2B, tell me _exactly_ what you want.” 6O was toying with her. She knew exactly what 2B wanted to ask.

“I want to snuggle you, mistress.” Heavy and alien though the word felt dropping from 2B’s lips, there was no way she could avoid using it now.

“Say that word again.”

“Snuggle,” 2B repeated.

“Well, why didn’t you just _say_ so?” 6O laughed and wrapped her arms around 2B’s waist, nuzzling her cheek. “You have my permission to snuggle me to your heart’s content, my little crocus.”

It was always disorienting to follow these sorts of commands while in her highly-suggestible state. 2B could always feel herself moving, but felt oddly detached from her own actions. There was a strange sense of dissonance throbbing behind even the slightest twitch of her fingers, as if her body could not make up its mind whether _she_ was the one moving it or an outside force was remote-controlling it.

2B dutifully rolled over and buried herself in 6O’s embrace, her fingertips drifting across the slick material of the Operator’s form-fitting dress uniform and the smooth, sheer latticework fabric of the bodysuit she wore underneath it until they came to rest dug between the tightly-braided plaits of her golden blonde tresses. She slid down and nestled her cheek against 6O’s soft, warm breast. 6O’s body was soft and squishy, yielding yet firm, and warm; her presence enveloped 2B—both her body and her mind.

The demands of service gave 2B precious little opportunity to indulge in such things as touch. Protocol required she keep a professional distance, at the very least, from her peers. To touch, to hug, to cuddle and kiss—she was not allowed such things. In fact, they were almost foreign to her. But here, all things were permitted—as long as her mistress willed it.

Seeking out the keyhole in the back of 2B’s black blouse that exposed her bare skin, 6O ran her thumb in a loose circle just below 2B’s shoulderblades with a gentle pressure, then withdrew it. 2B shivered and clung tighter, letting out a soft, involuntary whimper. If she could speak, she would beg for more.

“Take off my gloves,” 6O ordered.

Unhooking her fingers from 6O’s braids, 2B fumbled with the slick, half-forearm-length gloves and peeled them away; once 2B had let both gloves fall to the floor, 6O reached up and tugged on the high collar of 2B’s blouse, then lightly raked her fingernails across the nape of her neck.

“Tell me how this feels.”

“Good,” 2B murmured.

“Good,” 6O confirmed. “Let’s keep going, my sweet ambrosia.”

Following 6O’s clear and patient instructions, 2B fumbled with 6O’s thigh-high boots, then the sleek, short, form-fitting dress hugging the Operator’s curvy and slender torso; next, she helped 6O shrug out of her bodysuit. 2B’s movements grew clumsier, the whirring of her black box faster and louder, as she exposed more of 6O’s skin. With every passing second, 2B felt more and more constrained—both by her clothes and by her altered programming, and wanted nothing more than to tear the rest of 6O’s clothes off and bury herself in her bare flesh.

6O cast aside the discarded clothes like shed snakeskin, her bare skin faintly glistening, clad in nothing but her lingerie and the veil masking the lower half of her face. “Almost done,” she cooed, caressing 2B’s cheeks. Her fingers slipped into her hair once more, her naked palms pressing lightly against her cheeks. “You’re doing so well, 2B. I’m proud of you. Just a little more to go, my sweet dahlia.” Her hands fell to 2B’s shoulders.

“Th-Thank you, mistress,” 2B stammered, blushing, as she bowed her head and set to work unhooking the clasps of her bra, her trembling fingers brushing against 6O’s skin. She may have possessed the swiftest of reflexes as a soldier for YoRHa, but in the realm of her mistress’s bedroom, she was all thumbs. Her cheeks were flushed and burning now, her breath short and shallow as anticipation swirled through her mind. She was growing so flustered that her visual processor was beginning to glitch out, sending intermittent reams of static across her eyes.

She knew better than to be so impatient—after all, she would make her next move when 6O willed it and not a moment sooner. But still…

At last, the bra came free; lowering her hands, 2B hooked her thumbs into 6O’s panties.

“Wait,” 6O said.

2B waited. It was maddening. She could _almost_ smell 6O’s lubricant beneath the thin, lacy undergarments. The world around her began to turn gray (although, given the Bunker’s décor, she hardly noticed) as her processor kept diverting more and more power from her cognitive and sensory functions.

 _Please,_ she thought, _don’t make me use my heels again._

6O chuckled. “Just wanted you to appreciate the moment. Keep going!”

Without wasting a second, 2B dragged 6O’s panties down to her ankles. She couldn’t imagine how red her face must have been as she gazed at 6O, her eyes capturing every perfect square centimeter of her bare and flawless skin. There was so much pressure building up in her black box and so much warmth between her thighs that she felt as though she were about to burst.

2B removed 6O’s veil last, revealing the bright and perky smile hidden underneath; now fully undressed, 6O leaned back and sighed contentedly. “Very good work, 2B,” she said. “Now kneel down…”

2B knelt in front of her expectantly, her hands and knees sinking into 6O’s mattress.

6O reached out and scratched lazily under her chin. “Good girl. Do you have anything to say, my darling little mint sprig?”

“Mistress, I’d like permission to…”

“Now, now. We’re only halfway done.” 6O reached over and undid the sash holding 2B’s slit skirt in place, letting it fall and drape itself over her thighs. She brushed it aside to the floor, then peeled off 2B’s gloves, her every movement tantalizingly slow and deliberate, every brush of her naked skin against 2B’s ticking up the pressure building up within herself.

 _Please hurry,_ she wanted to say, but of course, she couldn’t. And she knew that at the end, the long, slow buildup would be more worth the wait than she could imagine.

6O pulled 2B’s blouse up over her head next; without the perfectly-tailored clothing to constrain her, 2B felt some of the pressure lessen. “How are you holding up, my sweet honeysuckle?”

“I’m very hot, mistress,” 2B admitted.

6O smiled. “Of course you are. You’re the hottest android on the Bunker!”

At this point, 2B probably _was,_ both metaphorically and literally. Any hotter and she might overheat—and _that_ would be an ignoble death to explain to her superiors.

“I get it, though. We’ve been putting this off too long, haven’t we?” 6O sidled up to 2B and draped an arm over her shoulder, and with her other hand cupped 2B’s breast and gave it a gentle squeeze, then began to circle her thumb around the areola of her nipple, running along the demarcation line between pale skin and tender, rosy flesh. It tickled.

2B flinched, her breath catching in her throat, as an electric tingle ran down her spine. Chromatic aberrations plagued her sight, static like crashing waves tingling her ears. Her hands hung uselessly at her sides without 6O’s commands to spur them into action, leaving her helpless as her body ached and cried out with need and her mind filled with warm fog.

6O’s hand drifted lazily down 2B’s stomach, teasing her with every centimeter closer her creeping fingers came toward slipping between her thighs. It was maddening, and she knew it. If 2B had even an ounce of her own free will, she would have thrust her own hand down there and fingered herself until she was satisfied just to stave off the pressure, but she couldn’t do that without explicit orders.

“You poor thing,” 6O said. “You have my permission to kiss me, my little dahlia.”

It wasn’t much, but it was an oasis in the desert for 2B. Relieved, she leaned over and brought her lips to 6O’s, only for the Operator to deflect at the last second; 2B’s kiss found its mark on 6O’s rosy cheek. Still, the rising warmth and pressure around her black box reached a comfortable plateau. 6O let out a long, muffled, satisfied sigh when she finally broke free; an involuntary gasp, the only aspect of her behavior not under her mistress’s control, escaped from 2B’s lips in turn.

2B leaned in for a second kiss, only for 6O to hold her finger to her lips. “Once,” she said, a mischievous and almost sadistic glimmer in her bright aquamarine eyes.

“ _Please, mistress,”_ 2B whispered.

“Don’t fret, we’re almost done. Take off your boots.”

2B unfolded her legs from under her and unlaced the backs of her knee-high boots, then slipped out of them; 6O followed her example and peeled away her stockings, then helped 2B wriggle out of her singlet. The quick brush of an errant hand across 2B’s chest made her quiver in anticipation. She was all but panting for breath now, her chest heaving. She wanted nothing more than to throw herself at 6O and entangle their bodies, and she wanted to do it _now._

The air was cool on 2B’s bare skin from her head to her toes, bringing at least a little bit of her much-needed relief as 6O reached behind her head and began to work at the knot holding her visor in place. _“Now,”_ 6O cooed softly, _“my sweet little lime blossom, let’s see those pretty eyes of yours…”_ The black visor unraveled from around 2B’s head, draping itself in her lap; 6O gently rubbed her eyes for her.

 _Lime blossom._ That was the nickname 6O always used to let her know that all of the pent-up passion that had been causing 2B so much frustration would soon have an outlet. 2B panted with anticipation. Sometimes 6O would pleasure her with her fingers while she laid back, helpless and immobile; sometimes 6O would command her to finger her clit herself. Both were acceptable outcomes to 2B (although she’d been flustered and mortified the first time 6O had ordered her to do it—she’d never indulged in such a thing, although 6O seemed to be an expert in autoerotic stimulation), and she looked forward equally to either.

6O yanked the sheets from her bed and draped them over 2B’s shoulders. “Lie down,” she said coquettishly.

The order confused 2B, but she followed it nonetheless, lying perfectly still as 6O tucked her into bed. The sheets, far from thick and farther from soft—YoRHa did not put much thought into its accommodations—brushed against her hard and sensitive nipples.

This was a new kind of foreplay. 2B wasn’t sure about it, to be honest, but she’d go along with it. Was 6O going to crawl under the sheets with her and fuck her?

“Now,” 6O purred, crawling on top of 2B and straddling her hips with the bedsheets pressed between the two of them, “I order you to _close your eyes…”_

2B moaned and clutched at the bed, her fingers digging into the mattress as the pressing heat grew stronger within her, especially where the weight of 6O’s body felt heaviest on her. Her hips bucked involuntarily. She dutifully closed her eyes, though, even while her body writhed of its own accord. If only this thin sheet wasn’t pressed between them, blocking her from the intoxicating sensation of naked flesh pressed against flesh…

“… _And take a nice, long, refreshing nap,”_ 6O concluded.

 _What?_ But 2B had _needs,_ she was _bursting at the seams_ with desires. She fought against it, struggled to stave off the drowsiness enveloping her as she felt her closed eyelids growing even heavier, her limbs growing leaden, and her thoughts growing sluggish.

“ _Thistle,”_ she whispered, and in an instant, 2B felt her full control and awareness return to her in a flood as if she’d been doused with ice-cold water, her eyes snapping open; she was left wide awake, alert, and disoriented, like she’d just woken up from too short of a nap.

6O slid off of her and sat down at her side, her mischievous grin shrinking as concern filled her eyes. “I’m so, so sorry, 2B,” she said, reaching out, massaging her forehead, and softly stroking her hair. “Are you okay, my sweet chrysanthemum?”

2B sighed, frustrated and still brimming with the embers of her pent-up lust. “Yeah. I’m good.”

The two of them sat in silence for a little while.

“Are you mad at me?” 6O finally asked.

2B shook her head.

6O wrung her hands in her lap, her downcast eyes failing to meet 2B’s gaze. “I… I just thought it would be funny as kind of… a prank. I wasn’t thinking about how much it would spoil the moment…”

2B sat up, letting the sheets tucked firmly against her neck pool around her waist. “If I may make a suggestion,” she said, trying to keep the trace amounts of bitterness out of her voice, “you should put me to sleep _after_ we’re finished, not _before_ it.”

“I’m sorry…” 6O buried her face in her hands. “This is worse than the time I made you take off my panties with your heels…”

2B wasn’t sure she agreed with that. This session, though disappointingly cut short, hadn’t ended with 6O writhing in pain on the floor while clutching her crotch and swearing (2B hadn’t had any idea she was even capable of using such language—then again, 2B hadn’t had any idea 6O had such an assertive side, either).

“I’m such a bad dom,” 6O whined. “I-I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me… I didn’t want to ruin the moment… I-I mean, I _did,_ b-but as, you know, a-a joke… I just got carried away and I wasn’t thinking…”

2B sighed. She couldn’t stay mad at 6O, especially when she started crying. “Don’t worry about it.”

6O sniffled. “I guess you’ll be wanting to get dressed and leave, huh?” she asked dejectedly.

“I suppose. Same time next week?”

6O pulled her hands away from her face. “Y—Really?”

“As long as you remember to put me to sleep _after_ I, uh…”

“Leak?” 6O suggested. She tried to smile, but instead, her face just scrunched up in an uncomfortable melange of dismay and tentative happiness.

2B suppressed the urge to grimace. _‘You’re such a prude,’_ 6O had teased her during 2B’s first time.

6O reached over and rubbed 2B’s shoulder, her palm sliding across her skin. “Thank you,” she said, choking back tears. “I… I really love you, 2B…”

2B looked 6O up and down, her eyes tracing the slender curves of her perfect, naked body, and felt her pangs of carnal hunger well up—greatly diminished from before, yet still present all the same, dwelling deep within her chassis and welling up in her head, in her chest, and between her legs. “I, um…”

She wanted to say ‘I love you’ back to 6O, or even just ‘me, too,’ but her tongue froze in her mouth, just as her body would refuse to move under her own power when 6O had her in her thrall. She just couldn’t bring herself to say it. Even such simple words were too much to ask of her when her will was merely her own.

“Put me back under,” she told 6O.

“Really?” 6O asked. “You really want that?”

“It’s the only way I can be honest with you.”

6O quizzically cocked her head.

“I can’t tell you how I feel,” 2B explained, “unless you take control of me and tell me what words to say. I need you to force me to say the things I can’t say on my own. I need you to put the words I need to say into my mouth.”

That was, after all, why she did this—why she allowed herself to have her free will taken from her; not ripped out of her grip as her superiors would do but gently, willingly slipped out of her hands by someone she trusted with her comfort and safety.

2B trusted 6O, when she took control of her, to guide her into being who she _wanted_ to be… more or less.

6O dabbed at her eyes and draped herself over 2B; the scent of her hair—lavender—filled 2B’s nostrils. “Are you sure?” she asked.

2B nodded. “I’m free for the rest of the night. I can still be your—”

“My what?”

2B clamped her hand over her mouth and turned away, blushing.

“My _what,_ 2B?” 6O needled her, giving her a playful nudge as her exuberance began to slowly return to her.

“Your, um… sweet little lime blossom.” 2B’s voice grew quieter with every word, ‘blossom’ being all but inaudible.

6O’s cheeks flushed crimson. “O-Oh?” Her smile widened, showing the white teeth behind her glossy pink lips. She hurriedly brought up another holographic panel and began tapping on it to re-engage the control program, slipping behind 2B and playfully tickling the small of her back with her fingertip. “Do you want me to tease you again… or just get right to the point?”

“You decide,” 2B said, wincing and flinching as she tried desperately to suppress the urge to let out a reflexive laugh.

“All right, then, _sweet little lime blossom.”_

2B closed her eyes and took a sharp breath as a shocking, refreshing ice-cold trickle ran down her spine once again, and once again she was under her mistress’s power.

“Let’s start with simple, yes-or-no questions,” 6O whispered in 2B’s ear. “Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“I’d like to… pick up where we left off. Are you still, uh… I mean, um, are you _horny,”_ 6O asked, her voice dropping to a near-inaudible volume on that last word, “my, uh, sweet coriander?”

“No,” 2B admitted.

6O clucked her tongue. “Aww. Well, that’s okay. I’ll just have to build you back up, my little buttercup.”

She leaned forward and snaked her arms around 2B’s waist, the light and airy touch of her fingertips tickling the bare skin of her sides. Her finger curiously circled 2B’s navel; 2B, loath to admit she was ticklish there (or, well, _anywhere),_ desperately tried to suppress a manic fit of laughter (and failed). A sharp peal of laughter rang through the cramped bedroom.

“Don’t you dare laugh,” 6O ordered her. “I won’t allow it.”

2B silenced herself at once, biting down on her lower lip as 6O’s mischievous fingers continued to wreak havoc on her delicate, sensitive skin; her teeth cut into her lip with enough force that she could taste her own blood. Her shoulders shook as she struggled with all of her might to suppress her own laughter. Her breath froze in her throat—she nearly felt as though she were choking on nothing but thin air.

One hand traveled upward, tracing the contours of her breast first and then her neck and jawline, rising to brush her cheek with a delicate, feathery dance on its way to curl a lock of 2B’s hair around a slender finger; the other hand traveled in the opposite direction, sliding across the ample curve of 2B’s thigh.

2B let out a relieved gasp and struggled to catch her breath.

“You know, I’ve been talking,” 6O hissed into her ear, “with the girls in R&D. They think they can get me an exact replica of the Commander’s uniform… What do you think? Do you think it’d spice up your… obedience training?”

2B took a deep, ragged breath, her chest heaving. “No,” she gasped.

“Aww, you don’t think I’d look good in it?” 6O pouted.

2B wanted to say ‘no,’ although it was only _half_ of the answer she wanted to give. She liked taking orders from 6O because she _wasn’t_ the Commander; that kind of roleplaying would spoil it. But by answering ‘no,’ 2B would actually be claiming that 6O _wouldn’t_ look good in that gorgeous white dress the Commander always wore, and that just wasn’t true at all…

Paralyzed by indecision, 2B squirmed in 6O’s lap. _“N-N…”_

“On second thought, it _is_ a silly idea,” 6O admitted, rubbing her thighs against 2B’s. “Tell me what you _really_ think, my sweet coriander.”

“ _I don’t want to take orders from the Commander,”_ 2B blurted out, completely unable to restrain herself. _“I want to take orders from_ you.”

“Aww, 2B… you’re so… so…” 6O took a deep, shuddering breath as she clung tighter to 2B, wrapping her arms around her and squeezing. It was obvious she was having almost as hard a time keeping her composure as 2B herself was. _“So loyal…”_

6O pulled herself and 2B together like two pieces of the same puzzle as her exploratory fingers raised electric tingles just beneath 2B’s skin. 2B finally felt as though she’d picked up right where she’d left off—her body ached and burned with need.

“Have you been a good little bouquet for your mistress?” 6O asked, her voice low and husky, as she tucked into the slope of 2B’s neck and planted her soft, damp lips against her skin. The Operator let out a muffled moan of pleasure; 2B tried to do the same, but couldn’t, not without 6O commanding it.

2B closed her eyes. “Yes.”

6O’s fingers slipped between 2B’s legs. “Have you earned this?”

2B’s breath hitched and an electric jolt ran up her spine, releasing her response in an explosive hiss of air as her back arched. Each of 6O’s rhythmic, subtle motions drew waves of ecstasy through 2B’s quivering, helpless body, reverberating and resonating through her chassis, bringing her closer and closer to the pleasure she’d desired for what had felt like an eternity. Her mistress’s fingers targeted her clit with the grace and precision befitting those of a woman who was intimately acquainted with every detail of these useless vestigial organs. Her toes curled; static ran through her ears as waves of discolored distortion ran across her sight. _“Yes,”_ she whispered. “ _Please…”_

2B sat in 6O’s lap, her hips rocking, gasping and panting as her mistress dug in deeper and deeper. 6O kept going longer than 2B felt was possible; just when she felt the most like she was on the crest of the wave, 6O kept pushing her higher and higher.

“ _My sweet… dahlia, my b-beautiful coriander…”_ 2B could feel 6O’s breath grow short against her skin, her voice fading to a quivering whisper, as if she herself were struggling against the same hazy, lusty fog filling 2B’s head. _“I want you… I… I mean… I_ order _you… to say… say… ‘I love you.’”_

2B gritted her teeth in a paradoxical attempt to stave off the inevitable outcome she so desperately hoped for; she was so lightheaded that she’d barely heard 6O’s command and barely had the presence of mind to follow it.

“ _Say it…”_

“ _I… fffff…. aaah…”_ 2B struggled to bring the words to her mouth. Three simple words. As soon as they came even remotely close to rolling off her tongue, they vanished.

6O pressed in just the right spot, in just the right way, with just the right amount of force—not too much, not too little—to bring the pressure within 2B to a wonderful height as pleasurable as it was intolerable at long last; as she climaxed, 2B threw back her head and let out a wordless, joyous gasp.

She slumped over into 6O’s waiting arms, the stale aroma of her synthetic lubricant filling her nostrils; her chest heaved as took in deep, shuddering breaths. Visual distortion still plagued her sight; she tried to collect her thoughts, but had precious few thoughts to collect. 6O let out a soft, satisfied sigh, her warm, soft body shivering behind her.

An eternity seemed to pass.

2B wished to simply relax, spent and exhausted, in her mistress’s arms, but 6O’s last command rang in her ears and refused to grant her peace. She had to muster the last of her strength and say it. She had to say…

“ _I love you,”_ 2B gasped, so thankful to have been finally allowed to speak her mind.

6O sighed and curled her legs around 2B’s. “Good girl. You’ve done a marvelous job! I’m so, so proud to be your mistress.” The praise made 2B feel as though she were filled with sunbeams. She ruffled 2B’s hair. “I’m going to put you to sleep now. Close your eyes…”

2B’s eyelids grew heavy; the fog in her mind grew thicker and heavier. Everything went dark, leaving her with nothing but the sound of her mistress’s soft, yet imperious voice.

“Before we finish here, do you have anything else to say, my little coriander?” 6O asked as she grasped 2B’s hands and entwined their fingers together.

“I do, mistress.”

“I order you to say it,” said 6O.

“…Thank you.”

2B was already half-asleep by the time 6O gave her final command of the night; following her mistress’s commands was never difficult, but this was the easiest one of all.

She slept deeply, comfortably, and blissfully.

**Author's Note:**

> Every single flower I mention here has a relevant meaning.
> 
> Ambrosia: "Love is reciprocated"  
> Buttercup: "Riches"  
> Coriander: "Lust"  
> Crocus: "Youthful joy, love"  
> Dahlia: "Elegance and dignity"  
> Honeysuckle: "Devoted affection, bonds of love"  
> Lime blossom: "Fornication"  
> Marigold: "Pain and grief"  
> Mint: "Suspicion"  
> Thistle: "Nobility, warning"
> 
> okay so "buttercup" doesn't really fit 2B at all but I had to reference the song


End file.
